


The Final Problem

by takemetofandomrehab



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:43:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemetofandomrehab/pseuds/takemetofandomrehab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is the final problem? How can John cope now that Sherlock is gone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Final Problem

Time is a strange thing. When it's been but a moment, you feel a whole life time has passed. But when a whole life time has passed, it has been just a moment. But when it seems to freeze, you are stuck in a never ending circle of pain.

John stood silently, staring out into the streets, watching the droplets of rain pass by and fall upon the people who walked hurriedly down the pavement, itching to get into the warmth of a cab, trusting them to keep them safe from harm. A little giggle burst out of his closed lips, relieving the frown upon his forehead.

"A study of pink." he said aloud. "A study of pink." He repeated softly. "Pink skirt, pink top, pink shoes, pink coat, pink lips, pink bag, pink phone, pink this, pink that, pink me, pink him, pink us…PINK! PINK, PINK, PINK, PINK ,PINK!" he laughed hysterically.

"Pink is the new sexy everyone!" he yelled into the silence. "Pink is the new sexy! Not purple, no, no, no! PINK! Pink and smart ladies and gents! Pink and smart." He softly cried.

"Oh and I forgot to mention that a Jade pin is a MUST! But no, it can't be ordinary. No. It must be worth more than our entire fucking lives! Yes Mr. Holmes, you know everything. But I'm not Mr Holmes, I'm John. Or am I? Who am I? John? No, of course not! I'm Sherlock the sociopath! I get kicks out of solving riddles from the dead!" He screeched, raising his fist in the air.

"The address is 221B Baker Street and the name's Sherlock. The name's Sherlock and I'm so bloody cool with my cheekbones and high collar! Drugging people is fun!" he said, getting more hysterical, pacing up and down.

"Oh let's make John scared! Let's drug him up and make him high as a kite! Let John deal with Mycroft. Let John deal with manners. Let John deal with this, let John deal with that!" he shouted, shaking his head.

"Why don't we go and live a peaceful life? Because ordinary lives are boring! Because we are so much better than that! Because chasing the only consulting criminal is FUN!" he yelled into the wind that surrounded him.

"Oh but it gets better! It gets so much better. So, so, so much better. Why don't you take me as a hostage eh? A FUCKING HOSTAGE! I'll never be free! The only true freedom is in death, isn't that right Mr know-it-all Holmes?" he cried.

"SO WHAT'S THE FINAL PROBLEM?" he asked to no one, stepping to the edge of the roof.

"Staying alive" he whispered quietly, letting his tears merge with the rain, and his body fall to the ground as he stepped into the open air, falling away from the pain and emptiness, and into the invisible arms of Sherlock, as he closed his eyes and hit the ground where Sherlock, his best friend, and perhaps his soul mate, had a few days ago.


End file.
